


Close to the Chest

by dewcake



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, McSpirk Holiday Fest, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve, Prompt Fill, Threesome - M/M/M, implied/referenced PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dewcake/pseuds/dewcake
Summary: James Kirk was never recruited by Pike, Leonard McCoy never served as CMO on theEnterprise, and Spock remained a professor at Starfleet Academy. Their lives didn't end up where they were destined to be, but the universe never stopped trying to mend it. Feeling like his life is going nowhere, McCoy recruits a mysterious man who goes only by 'Jim' to help him win the affections of his fellow professor at Starfleet Academy.





	1. Chapter 1

How had it come to this?

Over the top of Leonard's PADD, he could see the kid lounging in the booth seat, one arm lazily resting on the back. A few days worth of scruff covered the kid's jawline. It was darker than his hair, which was blond but looked almost golden with the way light streamed on to it from the window next to their table.

Once more, Leonard looked down at the ad on his PADD. It was from a casual encounters page from an appropriately seedy website—something he thought only desperate people went on. Well, he'd become that desperate person. It was a simple ad with an offer to pretend to be in a relationship with any interested party. Services provided included playing a bad boyfriend, disrupting family events, pretending to be really drunk, or just straight up starting a fight upon request.

With a disgruntled sigh, Leonard set his PADD down on the diner's table in front of him.

"You got a name, kid? Didn't mention anything but a contact number on your ad," Leonard said.

The kid leaned forward, catching the straw of his drink between his lips and taking a sip before he spoke. "I'm twenty-eight. Not a kid."

"Coulda fooled me."

The kid grinned and swirled his straw around the glass. The ice cubes clinked together and rolled as the contents fizzed around them. "I'll be sure not to shave if you want me to play someone who looks more your age."

Leonard scowled. "What're you trying to say?"

"Nothing. You can call me Jim, by the way."

"Just Jim?"

"Just Jim." The kid nodded to him. "What about you? You didn't give me a name either."

He hesitated. "Leonard's fine."

"Leonard?" Jim wrinkled his nose. "Nah, that doesn't suit you. Got anything else?"

"No."

“How about Peaches?”

The look Leonard shot Jim was truly murderous.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Take it easy, Georgia.”

Why the hell was he putting himself through this? Some brat wasn’t going to be any help to him. “You know,” Leonard began as he picked his PADD back up and stuffed it into his shoulder bag. “I think this whole idea was a mistake. Thanks for your time, but it ain’t gonna work out. I’m going home.”

Jim’s self-assured smile dropped as Leonard stood up from the table. Before Leonard had a chance to make for the door, the kid was scrambling to his feet, his brow furrowed with worry. Without breaking stride, Leonard stepped around Jim and headed out the door. The sound of footsteps followed behind him.

“Wait!” Jim called. He picked up his pace to keep up with Leonard. “I was trying to lighten the mood, but I clearly went too far with the teasing. I’m sorry.”

Leonard pursed his lips and said nothing.

“Did you walk to meet me at the diner?” Jim continued, “I could give you a ride to wherever you want. My motorcycle is just back…” He trailed off as Leonard glared at him. “Or I’ll come pick it up later. I really am sorry.”

Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, I heard ya. Enough bellyaching already.”

For a while, the only sound was their footsteps, passing hovercars, and the distant sounds of waves upon the nearby beach. Surprisingly, Jim seemed content to remain silent while they walked. Leonard took the opportunity to sneak a glance. Overall, Jim wasn’t a bad looking guy; maybe a little rough-looking with the unkempt scruff and slightly tattered jeans. It was plausible that he could clean up well. Leonard jerked his eyes away to stare straight ahead, wondering what kind of maniac he was to still be considering this harebrained scheme.

“So, is it an ex?” Jim asked, breaking the silence.

“Huh?”

“Some people will hire me to get revenge on an ex. Or make an ex jealous.” Jim paused a moment to point at Leonard’s left hand. “And you’ve got a faded tan line on your ring finger. So, I’ll repeat my question. Is it an ex?”

Leonard pulled his hand away like pointing the tan line out had burned him. Self-consciously, he tucked his hand under his right arm. “He’s not an ex.” He’d meant for that to come out growled to show how irritated he was by Jim’s observant prying, but it sounded too defensive, too vulnerable. But instead of snooping more about his missing wedding ring like Leonard expected, the kid only nodded.

“Oh, there’s a he? Let me guess. You’re trying to get back into the dating game and having a hard time grabbing his attention?”

“I date _just fine_.”

“Uh-huh.” Jim’s smirk was lop-sided. “If that’s the case, why do you need someone like me to help you out?”

Leonard refrained from responding but that didn’t seem to dissuade Jim.

“What’s he like?”

No response.

“Leonard—that still really does not suit you. Are you sure you don’t have a nickname? …No? Alright, alright, cool it with the glare. I got it. Listen, I’m not being nosy just because I’m curious. If you want my help, I gotta know a little bit about him. Just a few things. A couple points on his personality, what you’ve tried before, and- Where in the world are we going, by the way? If we keep going the way you’re leading, we’re going to walk right onto Starfleet Academy campus.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “That is where we’re going.”

The persistent footsteps next to him came to a dead stop, and when Leonard looked back, he saw that Jim had quit walking. A bit of sweat was beading on Jim’s brow that he wiped away with the back of his hand. “Uh, why?”

“My apartment’s on campus,” Leonard explained, “I work there. Something wrong, kid?”

“You work there?” Jim repeated dumbly. His words were clipped, and he glanced over his shoulder as if he was considering returning to the diner for his motorcycle.

“I’m a professor.”

Jim’s head whipped around. Whatever was going through the kid’s mind, it had clearly derailed with that statement. “ _You’r_ e a professor?”

“No reason to look so shocked,” Leonard grumbled.

“That’s not- I mean,” Jim gestured at him, “you just don’t look like a professor.” Leonard raised an eyebrow in far too close an imitation of… _him_. Hastily, Jim continued, “I don’t mean it in a bad way. You’re, uh, well, you’re pretty buff for a professor.”

With a loud snort, Leonard shoved his hands in his pockets, turned on his heel, and kept walking back home. For a moment, footsteps did not follow him, causing Leonard to be almost certain that he’d finally chased Jim away. But the thought came too soon, and a second later, Jim jogged back to his side.

“What do you teach?”

Kid was strange. One minute, he looked ready to run, and the next he was trying to get all the gritty details.

“Why the sudden curiosity?”

“Well, you still haven’t given me any details about what you want me to do, but I can make an educated guess that I’ll probably be pretending to be your boyfriend so you can grab the attention of whoever he is. If that’s the case, as your pretend boyfriend, I should know a few things about you, don’t you think?”

As much as Leonard wanted to argue against that, he couldn’t deny the logic of it. If he got caught parading around a fake boyfriend, he didn’t think he’d ever live down the shame. Grudgingly, Leonard said, “Biochemistry and Xenobiology. Then I work what shifts I can down at Starfleet Medical.”

Jim groaned, and though he kept walking, he rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “Oh my god. A doctor too?”

“Now what?” Was everything he said going to set this kid off?

“Nothing, nothing. Nothing with you.” Jim turned around so he was facing Leonard, but still walking backwards. “I mean, yes, with you—you’re my personal nightmare—but it’s fine. It’ll work out.”

“The hell is wrong with you?” Leonard demanded. He had half a mind to smack the kid and teach him some manners. Grabbing Jim by the arm, Leonard pulled him to a stop.

“Uh—”

“Ya can’t just go ‘round calling people that. It’s goddamn rude. Now either you smarten up this instant and help me out, or you can turn back to that bucket of tin and bolts you left at the diner. I ain’t got time for whatever nonsense this is.”

Jim’s bright blue eyes were wide, his mouth agape for a moment before he closed it to bite his lower lip. He dragged his teeth over it, causing the tender flesh to grow red with the slight bruising. “Sorry. Not a big fan of doctors.”

“Yeah, gathered that.” Leonard let Jim go, and once again, carried on with Jim at his side. “Not like I’m gonna drag you into my office and inject you with a hypo.”

Jim eyed Leonard like he thought it might be possible, but let the matter drop as they walked onto Starfleet Academy campus. It was quiet this time of year. Many students were back home during the break between semesters. The locals and those that had stayed over the break were off campus too, celebrating various holidays with their loved ones or the end of the semester with excessive drinking. The new year had yet to be rung in and already Medical was seeing people who’d overindulged. With the last of his grading completed days ago, Leonard was spending more hours in Medical. He found it easier to keep himself busy around this time of year.

Only a few lingering students passed them as Leonard led the way to his apartment. Most of them looked like they were heading out and hardly spared him or his strange companion a second glance. He was thankful for it. The last thing he needed was to see one of his students.

“Does your accent always get stronger when you’re angry?” Jim asked suddenly.

Well, it was close to the last thing he needed.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Jim just grinned. They stepped into Leonard’s apartment block, taking an uncomfortable ride up in a turbolift where Jim fidgeted, and Leonard tried to look anywhere but at Jim. He fished for his key card as they walked down the hall to his place and swiped it at the door, which opened with a soft hush of air. Unable to stop being the gentleman his Ma had taught him to be, Leonard stepped aside and motioned Jim in first.

For the last several years, Leonard had lived in San Francisco, though in this apartment only for the last couple years. It was semi-open concept. The front door led immediately into the living room with his kitchen and dining area visible off to one side. One section of the living room was dedicated to a desk and his computer. Only the bathroom, his bedroom, and the spare room was closed off from the rest of the apartment. He kept his place simple and neat. Everything was clean and put in place barring a few electronic files on his desk and three paper medical books on his coffee table that he’d picked up at an antique store the previous weekend.

Jim spared only a glance at the books before continuing to the window and opening the blinds. “Hm. Thought a fancy place like this would have bigger windows.”

“Didn’t want ‘em. I don’t like heights.” Bigger windows just meant more opportunities to accidentally give himself vertigo.

With a nod, Jim left the window and peered at the shelving along one wall. Leonard had more paper books there, a few decorative knick-knacks, and some framed pictures from back home. Jim stopped in front of the pictures.

“This your daughter?” Jim asked, pointing to a photo. It was from a year ago. He’d gotten Jo for the break last year, and they’d spent Christmas together. In the picture, she was grinning wildly at him. There was a gap in her smile from a missing tooth, and on her head, she wore a Santa hat with a sprig of holly pinned to the trim. This year, she’d spent the holidays with her mom. Leonard hadn’t put up a Christmas tree.

Leonard grunted in confirmation. His shoulder was aching him, so he slipped his bag off, setting it on the couch and falling with a huff into a seat.

“She has your eyes. What’s her name?” When Leonard didn’t immediately respond, Jim looked back at him. “Again, I’m not prying for no reason. I need to know a few things if I’m going to be convincing.”

“… Joanna. But she goes by Jo.”

“How old? Nine?”

“Ten.”

“She live here?

“No.”

“How long since the divorce?”

“Six years.”

“And how long have you had a crush on the mysterious 'him'?”

With a groan, Leonard closed his eyes and tipped his head back so it hit the back of the couch. Jim snickered.

“You’ve got it bad, huh?”

Next to Leonard, he felt the couch dip as Jim sat next to him. Why was he still going along with this? Was he so desperate? Leonard opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. All too clearly, he could recall his numerous failed attempts at grabbing _his_ attention.

There was that argument back when Leonard was still a student, and he disagreed fundamentally on a less than perfect grade he’d been given. They’d argued back and forth after that. Over his thesis too. Which was his own fault for getting the asshole to be his advisor for the project. But he’d graduated. Gone full time at Medical for a while. Then there was that shared research project. They’d argued lots over that too. Then the encouragement to take a teaching position at the Academy. The polite, distant congratulations Leonard had received upon getting said teaching position. And then _he_ left. Barely any explanation. Just that he was leaving to take a position with Captain Christopher Pike. And Leonard had taken it poorly. Very poorly. And though it hadn’t panned out, though the position only lasted a year, things never went back to the way they were after that.

Jim snapped his fingers in front of Leonard’s face, startling him.

“What?” Leonard grouched.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

Leonard shrugged. “Something about me having it bad.”

“That was like a whole minute ago. You’ve been staring all glassy-eyed at the ceiling.”

Leonard felt a flush in his cheeks. “I was thinking. What did you say?”

With a faint smile, Jim shook his head. “Nevermind. At least tell me the guy’s name. I need something to work off of.” The heat in Leonard’s cheeks grew. “Come on. If you can’t even give me a name, we’re going to get nowhere.”

Leonard exhaled all the air in his lungs, took a slow, deep breath back in, and said, “His name is Spock.”

“Spock?” Jim said with a frown. “That almost sounds--”

“He’s Vulcan,” Leonard blurted out.

“You’re kidding.”

Somehow, Leonard sank further into the couch than he already was. “I wish.”

Jim was quiet. Maybe Leonard was asking too much. Did Vulcans even have relationships with humans? They seemed to stick to other Vulcans. Except he did remember seeing Spock in the company of a human woman quite often years ago. He remembered that she was stunning. Was that it? Was Spock dating her? But ever since Spock returned from Captain Pike’s _Enterprise_ last year Leonard hadn’t seen her around.

“—could say literally anything right now and you wouldn’t hear a word, huh?”

“What?”

“You were off in la-la-land again, my friend,” Jim said, a sly grin curling his lips. “How’re we supposed to get anywhere if you keep staring blankly at your coffee table?”

“Been a long day,” Leonard mumbled in lieu of another apology.

“Well, let’s start simple then.” Jim leaned back in his seat and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “How long have you known him?”

“’Bout four years. Was his student first.” Leonard rubbed the back his neck uncomfortably.

“He’s a professor here too? Doctor?”

Leonard shook his head. “Not a doctor. I took Tactical Analysis from him.”

Jim’s brow wrinkled. “Why in the world did you take Tactical Analysis?”

“I had a brief delusion of getting assigned to a ship and working my way up to CMO,” Leonard sighed. “But I gotta problem with flying.”

“Acrophobia and aviophobia. You picked a hell of a career path. You know, it gets easier to deal with fears if you face them.”

“I got a PhD in Psychology, kid. Don’t you even try to doctor me.”

Jim chuckled. “So, why’d you choose Starfleet then? Did you follow your Vulcan beau here?”

It took every ounce of self-control Leonard had not to smack the smug smirk off Jim’s face. He settled for a death glare instead. “No. Joined on a whim after… after the divorce. I had nothing left. Ex-wife took the whole damn planet.” Slowly, his glare lowered to the floor, his shoulders slumped, and when he looked up again, it was to stare at Jo’s picture on the nearby shelving. “All I got left is my bones.”

No response again from Jim. Leonard didn’t have enough alcohol in him to deal with this situation. It was bad enough already without uncomfortable stretches of silence.

“That works,” Jim said. Nervously, and not understanding what in the world Jim meant by that, Leonard glanced over to see Jim thoughtfully tapping his lips.

“What does?”

“Bones.” Jim pulled his feet off the coffee table, nearly knocking over the files on it in his haste to get up. “People tend to accept that a couple has been together for a while quicker if they have a pet name or nickname for each other. You’ve clearly already set on ‘kid’ for me—which is inaccurate, and hardly sweet, but I’ll go with it. You’ve already rejected Peaches and Georgia. I was considering Sawbones, but you’re too much of a softie for that to stick, and I’m pretty sure you’d whack me the second I called you sweetheart. So, Bones it is.”

“You’re not gonna stop, are ya?”

“You’ll have to kill me first—hey! Don’t make that face like you’re considering it. I’m trying to help you. When do you see this guy next?”

Leonard was still considering it. “Unless I bump into him on campus, probably the New Year’s party the Academy is having.”

“Not a lot of time to prepare.” Jim hummed to himself. What the hell did he have to prepare for? Jim was quiet again, absently pacing the room as he thought. After a few minutes, Jim clapped his hands and spun around to face Leonard. “Alright, tell me everything you know about Spock.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Leonard leaned forward, put his face in his hands, and wondered what the hell he managed to get himself in to.


	2. Chapter 2

“I still don’t see what was wrong with my suit,” Jim said.

“You looked like a saddle on a sow.”

“I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”

A lie. Jim had some understanding of what it meant. He knew that it was an insult, and that it probably meant that he looked ridiculous, but he honestly didn’t think a saddle on a pig would look all that bad. They were plenty large enough for people to ride. At least, for a few minutes before you were inevitably knocked off. Then again, he hadn’t really done that since he was a kid, so maybe it would look ridiculous.

His back was prodded as he was guided into a clothing store. The second Jim was in it, he knew it wasn’t the kind of place meant for people like him. The shop was immense—filled wall to wall with suits of all shapes, sizes, and colours. Each was hung and folded on shelves of rich, dark wood, lit by all sort of warm lighting that was meant to make each patron look their best. Shelving that wasn’t covered in suits had finer shoes than Jim had ever seen in his life. Rows of watches and cufflinks were on display.

A hand was on his shoulder, the grip a little tighter than was necessary unless he meant to attempt an escape. Jim was considering it. But before Jim could get much further with that train of thought, a woman in a fitted caramel-coloured suit attending a display approached as they entered, an easy and welcoming smile on her face. Her long, curly black hair was pulled into a sleek bun, which framed her warm brown face. Just above her breast pocket was a gold plated name tag with the name “Talia” on it. In any other situation, Jim probably would have smiled at her, maybe engaged in a little light flirting, but right now he sort of felt like he was being pushed towards his executioner.

“Welcome. How may I help you today?” she asked.

“Evenin’. This one needs a suit that fits him.”

“My suit was fine,” Jim protested.

“It was too loose on you and long in the arms.”

“A favourite suit?” Talia asked sympathetically.

Jim nodded, making sure he looked appropriately resigned. He had some emotional attachment to the suit, sure, but mostly he just wanted to get out of here. Maybe he could leverage that sympathy, and then—

“But you can still keep your favourite suit while getting something that works on you a bit better. We also provide tailoring services to make sure both new and old suits really shine,” she continued.

She’d be no help at all.

“If you’d both follow me, I have a few suits in mind that will look fantastic on you. Is there a special occasion?” She led the way to a shelf filled with several different colours of suit. Jim was given another push to hurry him after her.

“I’m going, Bones. No need to shove.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Bones grumbled in a hushed voice.

Jim smirked. Excellent. Bones wasn’t willing to yell at him in public. Though he was perfectly willing to force Jim to stand in front of a mirror, be measured, pulled this way and that, and shown every suit on the planet. Eventually, he was bullied into a changing room to try some charcoal black, English-style, fitted-- Whatever. He’d stopped paying attention at some point.

“Jim, ya gotta come out eventually,” Bones said from the other side of the changing room door.

With a frown, Jim adjusted the collar of the crisp white shirt Bones had made him wear. Never had one of his “dates” gone to this much trouble. Normally, they had a couple requests of him, and he got some socializing and food out of it. That was all he wanted. Just something to keep him busy for an evening here and there so he didn’t mope around at home or feel tempted to go out for a drink.

“Jim!”

“I’m coming!” Jim said. Impatient son of a bitch. Jim took a deep breath, adjusted his clothing one last time, and stepped out of the changing room.

Bones was waiting for him near the changing rooms. He was leaning against a wall, arms crossed over his chest, and looking generally irritated (as seemed to be his default) until the moment that Jim stood in front of him. The tight-lipped frown dropped, becoming slack enough that Jim could see Bones’ lips part slightly. His eyebrows raised, and he wrinkled his brow.

“Goddamn.”

There was no chance for Jim to respond to that exclamation as Talia peered into the changing room, a smile quirking her lips. “Your boyfriend cleans up quite well, Mr. McCoy.” That must have caught Bones off guard, because he pursed his lips, glanced at her, back at Jim, and then nodded once. “I think a different pocket square, however. Something blue to bring out his eyes,” she trailed off as she left them again.

“So, I look good, huh?” Jim asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Now, I never said—”

“Didn’t have to. You were practically drooling.”

He got some dramatically rolled eyes for that. “Don’t see why you were so reluctant since ya seem as pleased as Punch now.”

Jim’s smile faltered. Quietly, he turned to a nearby mirror to look himself over. They were right; he did look better. He had nicer clothes and shinier shoes now. His hair was combed neater than it had been when he first met Bones, and he’d shaven since there was no time to grow a proper beard for the party.

It was silly to hold on to old things and memories.

“It belonged to my brother. That old suit I showed you. Sam's taller than me. Bit bigger around the chest, too. He left a few years back with his girlfriend—wife now—for that Deneva colony and gave me a bunch of his old stuff before he left. I miss him. It’s silly to hold on to old things that don’t even fit, but, well…”

“Helps you remember them,” Bones said softly.

There was a lump in his throat that Jim forced himself to swallow. “Yeah.”

“How long’s it been since you last saw him?”

“About five years.”

Bones whistled breathily. “He ever come back to visit?”

“Nah. He’s got kids now. It’s hard for them to make a trip like that, you know?”

“You could visit him?”

Jim shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He shrugged. “I guess I’m like you. Got a problem with space. Some of us are just meant to stay on Earth.” 

Bones’ hand gripped his shoulder. This time, it wasn’t at all the forceful, bullying grip that had pushed him into this store, but rather, gentle and reassuring. Jim didn’t know what to do with that. It was quiet enough that Jim could hear the bell above the door chime as a new customer walked in.

“You can wear your brother’s suit to the party,” Bones grumbled after a moment.

Jim barked a laugh. “I _knew_ you were a softie.” He patted the hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate the concern, I really do, but I’ll wear this fancy new suit you’re getting me. And besides,” Jim said, turning so that his back was to the mirror and looking over his shoulder at himself, “my ass looks good in these suit pants.”

He got yet another roll of Bones’ eyes for that comment. “Come on, let’s go get you that pocket square. I don’t need to see you ogling yourself any longer.”

The smirk was back on Jim’s face as he followed on Bones’ heels, but they’d only taken a step out of the changing room area before Bones suddenly rounded on him and shoved him right back in.

“Hey!” Jim protested as he stumbled back. Bones pressed him to the nearby wall and clapped a hand over his mouth. This wasn’t a position Jim was entirely unfamiliar with, but it usually took place in bathroom stalls or just past the front door in someone’s apartment, not in changing rooms. But Bones really didn’t seem like that type of guy. In fact, he seemed pretty busy peering around the wall into the main room of the store.

Jim pried the hand off his mouth. “The hell is going on?”

“Shh!”

“Shh for what?” Jim said but obediently dropped his voice to a whisper.

Bones winced. “ _He’s_ here.”

“Who is?”

Never one to wait or do what he was told, Jim craned his neck to get a look around the corner. It didn’t take a second to figure out who Bones was referring to. Even if the shop had been packed to the gills, Jim would have been able to pick this guy out in a crowd. He was all clean lines with sharply angled eyebrows and ears that came to a fine point. Somehow, he even pulled the haircut off, though it made him look like he just stepped out of some textbook on Vulcans. Nah, guy was too fancy for that. Maybe whatever the Vulcan equivalent of a high fashion magazine was.

“That’s Spock?” Jim asked, though any follow up questions were immediately muffled by Bones covering his mouth again. Once again, Jim pulled the hand off his face. “I’ll take that as a yes. He’s pretty hot.”

“Would you shut up for one second!” Bones hissed at him.

Jim finally complied and let his hands drop to his sides. Poor guy looked so nervous that Jim didn’t have it in him to tease. He peered around the corner again at where Spock was standing in front of the main counter speaking about something he couldn’t hear with Talia. Yeah, pretty damn hot. Sleek black hair, warm brown eyes, a strong jawline, and the black Starfleet uniform was something Jim could see people getting into. The Doc had good taste.

Jim tapped on Bones’ shoulder. “You still got me pinned against the wall, big guy. Talia might think we’re up to something if she sees us like this.” A blush worked its way onto Bones’ cheeks, and he swiftly pulled away but kept away from the changing room entrance.

“We’ll wait in here until he leaves,” Bones muttered.

“Are you kidding? This is the perfect opportunity to—”

“Of course, Mr. Spock,” Talia said. She was close enough now that Jim could hear her footsteps approaching. “Let me quickly check on my other clients. I’ll grab your order from the back in just a moment.” She stepped into the changing room area, a quizzical smile on her face when she saw them hovering so close to the entrance. “My apologies for the wait. Had a client come in for a special order that we got in all the way from Vulcan.” Talia stopped in front of Jim, removing the plain white pocket square from his breast pocket and replacing it with a patterned blue one. “There we are.” She looked over her shoulder at Bones with a bright smile. “Doesn’t that bring out his eyes?”

Bones glared stubbornly at the floor.

“He’s shy,” Jim said to explain away Bones’ odd behaviour. “Do you mind if we have a few more minutes?”

Talia laughed politely. “Of course. I’ll help my other client while you decide.”

Jim waited a beat before he rounded on Bones, grabbing the man by his shoulders. “First, I look stunning in this suit, and second, how do you expect anything to happen if you keep hiding in here?”

Bones spoke to him through gritted teeth, “I didn’t go into this planning to do anything in a goddamn changing room!”

Footsteps approached again, and Jim turned his head, expecting to request a few more minutes from Talia, but the woman was not waiting for them there. Instead, Spock stood in the entrance, his eyebrows minutely raised at them.

“Ah, Doctor McCoy. I was correct in my assumption; it was remarkably easy to pick out your voice from the other room.” Spock’s head was tilted slightly up as he looked Jim up and down. “Do you require assistance, Doctor?”

It occurred to Jim suddenly that Vulcans were supposed to have superior hearing. He and Bones had been talking in hushed voices, though clearly, Spock had heard them anyways. How much had he heard? They’d said nothing specific, but Jim knew it sounded sketchy. And probably vaguely threatening, which might explain why Spock was staring at him so intently. With a sheepish grin, he lowered his hands from Bones’ shoulders.

“Mr. Spock,” Bones acknowledged. His Adam’s apple noticeably bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Don’t need assistance. We’re just…” Silence. Spock waited patiently for Bones to continue. Oh boy.

“It’s my fault,” Jim stepped in. Two sets of eyes snapped to him—Spock’s neutral but still managing that Vulcan haughtiness; Bones’ bordering on desperation. Which meant it was Jim to the rescue. “I’m not used to this whole suit shopping thing and was hoping for reassurance with some intimacy, but I keep forgetting how private he is with that. Aren’t ‘cha, babe?”

Spock raised an eyebrow.

Bones was staring at him with his mouth open in disbelief. “I… yes.”

Jim chuckled. “I’ll learn my lesson eventually. Mr. Spock, was it? I’m Jim, Leonard’s boyfriend.” He began to offer his hand for a handshake but immediately pulled at back. “Sorry, always forget that Vulcans are sensitive about their hands.”

Something flickered in Spock’s face. Maybe a flash of annoyance before it returned to perfect calm. “That is correct. Vulcans reserve hand touching for family and close relationships.” He glanced momentarily at Bones. “For general greetings, we prefer the ta’al. Terrans commonly refer to it as the Vulcan salute.”

Spock raised his hands to perform the gesture, to which Jim followed suit and returned it. Bones kept his hands stubbornly behind his back.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Spock. I think we’ve settled on this suit, so I’m going to go change. I’ll meet you in a minute, Bones.” As he passed, Jim touched the small of Bones’ back and then slipped into his nearby changing room.

It was silent long enough that Jim was about ready to kick Bones’ ass into gear.

“Bones?” Spock finally asked. Their voices were more distant, like they’d moved away to speak, but Jim could still catch the conversation.

Bones snorted. “Yeah, Jim’s fond of nicknames. He latched on to that one for some godforsaken reason.”

“I see. I was unaware that you were dating currently.”

“It’s recent.”

“Oh?”

_Don’t say days, don’t say days, don’t say days._

“It’s been a few months.”

Glory hallelujah. The Doc could lie after all.

“Ah.” A pause. “May you find happiness in your relationship, Doctor. You deserve no less.”

“Mr. Spock?” Talia interrupted. “I’ve got your robes at the front.”

Another longer pause where Jim wondered if they had simply left.

“Please excuse me, Doctor McCoy. I have much to attend to today.”

Bones said nothing for a beat. “Right, sure thing. I’ll, uh, see you at the party?”

“Of course. Be well, Leonard.”

“…You too, Spock.”

Hastily, Jim finished undressing. By the time he was back in his own clothing and out of the changing room, Spock was gone, but Leonard remained, waiting with his back pressed to the wall. He didn’t react as Jim joined him. Just kept staring at nothing.

Jim slung his suit jacket over his shoulder. “Is the doctor still in?”

Bones startled at his voice. “What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jim spared a glance into the main room to see that Spock was nowhere to be found. “He’s gone. What’s got you looking so dreamy?”

Bones’ cheeks turned red.

“Come on.” Jim lightly took Bones’ forearm and squeezed it, a charming smile on his lips. “You don’t look miserable for once. You gotta tell me.”

Bones scoffed, hesitating. “He’s never called me Leonard before.”

“You’re serious? Four years and he’s never said your name?”

“Just Doctor McCoy.”

“Wow. Vulcans really play the long game.”

“You’re assuming he’s interested in me again,” Bones said gruffly.

Jim couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“You’re oblivious. If he was Terran, I bet he’d be pushing you into the nearest changing room. You can keep being clueless if you want, but we’re bagging you a Vulcan by the time that party is done.” He reached up, gave Bones’ cheek a little pinch, and before Bones could retaliate, Jim hightailed it back to Talia for safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [starfleetdicks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetdicks) for being a fantastic editor and helping me with Spock's voice.
> 
> I'm unsure of how long this fic is going to go, but you can expect the next chapter by January 26th. Thank you all for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

The robes were adequate. Of fine make, as one would expect from Vulcan silks, though perhaps not so exceptional a quality should he have requested them from home. He did not wish to trouble his mother unnecessarily. They spoke when they could, and during such calls, she usually told him that Sarek’s pride was wounded, but he would come around eventually. Spock did not expect such an outcome despite Amanda’s hopes. 

What would she say now if she knew he had squandered away his chance? She would know instantly; she always did. A mother’s intuition, she called it. 

“Quit moping, Spock. We’re at a party.” 

“Vulcans do not mope, sir.”

Christopher Pike, Spock’s former captain, scoffed at him. “Cut the sass. You’ve been moping all day. Don’t try to deny it. You’ve been staring dejectedly at the door with a furrow in your brow since we got here. What is it now? Haven’t seen you like this since Uhura.”

Spock looked away from the door to the drink in his hands. Champagne. It would not influence him, but the taste was not unpleasant. “Nyota and I ended our relationship amicably.”

“Sure. You just happened to leave my ship at the same time.”

“The decision was made in both our best interests. Nyota is better suited aboard the _Enterprise_ than I. May I ask what the purpose of this line of conversation is? It was my understanding that Terrans preferred to avoid sensitive topics during celebratory functions.”

“Oh, so now it’s sensitive.”

“I was simply employing terminology that Terrans may relate to.”

Pike rolled his eyes. “You’re evading. Look at you—a second passed and your eyes are at the door again. What the hell is going on with you?”

“It is nothing. If you wish to find more agreeable company, I will not be offended if you—”

“It’s McCoy, isn’t it?”

Spock’s grip tightened around the flute of his glass as he scrambled for a response.

“Well,” Pike said, “Isn’t that a damning silence.”

“It is not a matter of concern.”

“Even though you’re plainly concerned.”

“I merely happened upon him picking out a suit for the function. He seemed to be having a pleasing time with his partner.”

“Partner?”

“He referred to himself as Doctor McCoy’s boyfriend, I believe.”

“Leonard McCoy with a boyfriend? Never thought I’d see the day. Heard a couple nurses giggling about his 'legendary' hands once, but never put much stock in it. He’s a private guy.” Pike glanced at him sidelong and sighed. “I’m sorry, Spock.”

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

“Spock, how long have we known each other?”

Spock blinked slowly. “Eight years, sir.”

“Eight years,” Pike repeated and nodded thoughtfully. “Eight years, but you’re still trying to bullshit me.”

“I assure you, I—”

“You don’t even have to finish, and I know that whatever comes out of your mouth will be bullshit. You’re allowed to be sad, Spock.”

Spock said nothing for a moment as he continued to stare at the door.

“It is illogical to be displeased by Doctor McCoy entering into a relationship. It is his choice.”

“Illogical? Maybe. But it’s sure as hell human.”

Spock did not see the point in insulting him.

More people were arriving now. Starfleet Academy’s best and brightest were here. Professors with their dates, various staff members, admirals, captains and their first officers. He spotted Nyota enter with her date on one arm—a woman with honey-coloured hair, fair blue eyes, and a dazzling smile. When Nyota spotted him she smiled and waved, but continued into the crowd. 

“New nurse that’ll be boarding with us after the _Enterprise_ is refitted. Her name’s Chapel. I think Uhura snatched her up the second after I did.” 

“I will congratulate Nyota on her relationship when she is less preoccupied.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Sir?”

Instead of answering, Pike helped himself to another glass of champagne as a waiter passed by them. 

“Forget it. I know a wall once I’ve hit it. Not that it’ll stop me from trying to break down another.” Pike took a long drink of his champagne and squared his shoulders as if he was readying himself for something. “I could use you on the _Enterprise_ , Spock.” 

Spock opened his mouth to protest this line of conversation, which they had discussed many times before, but Pike held up a hand to silence him. 

“Now hold on, hold on. Let me finish. I’m not saying to hop on as soon as the _Enterprise_ is refitted, but Number One and I have been in talks with Starfleet about a five-year exploratory mission. It’s a few years down the pipeline still, but I’m gonna need a dedicated Science Officer.”

“There are no Starfleet regulations preventing her from being both First Officer and Science Officer. There are few as uniquely qualified as she is to fulfill both roles.”

Pike snorted. “You say that like she’ll put up with me demanding that she work both for five years. Listen, Spock, all I’m saying is to think about it. It’s a long way off. I still need to find myself one hell of a Chief Engineer for this. Heard there’s one on Delta Vega wasting away on that chunk of ice. Might be difficult to get him. Apparently did something to that dog that Admiral Archer was so obsessed with. I’ll need a new CMO too since Boyce is retiring in three years.” He sighed loudly. “Do you think I have any chance of convincing McCoy to sign on?”

Spock recalled how McCoy, still a student then, boarded a shuttle on a class trip to one of Starfleet’s command bases on Luna. The shuttle groaned as it left the dock, which evidently was enough to startle McCoy into hyperventilating in the bathroom. 

Another time, they stood overlooking San Francisco from a high window in Spock’s office. He made the error of speaking of his intent to leave his position at the Academy to join as a Science Officer on the _Enterprise_. Curiously, McCoy did not comment on it, though he normally commented on everything. Instead, McCoy balled up his fists, looked down at the students in the Academy courtyard, and promptly proceeded to accidentally give himself vertigo. He remembered McCoy swaying, and Spock had instinctively reached out to steady him. The barest skin to skin contact was made, but McCoy’s anger—and oddly regret—still ripped through that simple touch like a torrent.

“No, I do not believe so.” 

Pike’s sigh was longer, more defeated. “If the two of you would just—” Pike cut his sentence short and fell silent. His gaze flicked somewhere so briefly that Spock could not pinpoint exactly where he looked. It was unlike Pike to leave something unspoken. His posture changed. His jaw was set, his shoulders turned inward, and wrinkles sat heavy on his brow. His champagne glass was still a quarter full and seemed likely to remain that way.

“Sir?” Spock prodded and when there was no response, “Captain, are you well? Perhaps you have exceeded your alcohol consumption limit for the evening. I can see to—”

“Not that, Spock.” Pike shifted his grip on his glass restlessly. “That guy you said McCoy was dating—did you catch his name?”

“He introduced himself as Jim.”

Pike inhaled sharply. “I’ll be damned.”

“I do not understand. Is there a significance to his name?”

He could see the hesitation around the corners of Pike’s eyes and mouth. “Maybe. Just putting a name to a face.”

To a face? Were they here? Despite watching the door intently since arriving, he’d missed what he’d been waiting for all evening. Turning from Pike, Spock scanned the crowd until he finally spotted McCoy by a nearby table filled with food and drinks. He did not spot Jim, but Spock’s attentions were too unfocused to continue searching. He set his drink down on the table next to him.

“Please excuse me a moment, sir,” Spock said. 

“Spock, I don’t think you should—”

He did not wait to hear the rest. As he approached, Spock realized that there was no purpose in what he was doing. What did he hope to gain by inserting himself in McCoy’s date? He had no topic of conversation, no planned scenario in his mind. Just a sudden, directionless desire to be near McCoy. He should return to Pike. The thought came a second too late, and just as he was about to turn back, McCoy looked up to catch sight of him. 

The two glasses of punch McCoy held wobbled uncertainly as he picked them up. A drop of liquid spilled over the edge of the glass, creating a small red blotch on his grey tie.

“Dammit,” McCoy swore. 

“Everything alright?” Jim stepped out from behind a group of people where he previously remained unseen. He touched McCoy’s back. Something harsh and unwanted stirred in the pit of Spock’s stomach.

“Fine and dandy,” McCoy grumbled, “Been here two minutes, I’ve ruined my tie, and…” He glanced up at where Spock stood, unmoving as he felt compelled to stay now that McCoy spotted him. Jim followed McCoy’s gaze, and bizarrely, a bright smile lit up his face the moment he saw Spock. 

“Mr. Spock!” Jim called to him. 

This was a mistake. He should not have come over. There was no excuse for intruding on McCoy’s date. Who was he to insert himself into that happiness? He did not deserve it. 

Spock looked back over his shoulder, but Pike was absent from where he’d left him. No escape.

“It’s nice to see you again!” Jim continued.

An excuse still did not present itself. Spock approached as Jim took the offending glasses. 

“Was trying to get you a drink,” McCoy muttered. He lifted his tie with one hand and frowned at it. “Evenin’ Spock.”

“Good evening, Doctor. It is not very noticeable.”

“Noticeable enough,” Jim cut in. He brought one of the glasses of punch up to his nose to smell and immediately pulled it away. “Oof. If you’d waited a second for me, I would’ve mentioned I didn’t drink. Fancy some punch, Mr. Spock?”

Before Spock could decline, Jim held the glass out, his hand positioned in such a way that Spock could easily take it without skin contact. Again, an excuse did not come to him. He could say no thank you, but Jim was still holding the glass out, smiling at him all the while. It seemed rude not to. Spock took the glass and politely took a sip. It was too sweet. 

McCoy pushed at the red blot on his tie in a vain attempt to mask it but spread the punch deeper into the silk. “Should take the damn thing off.” As McCoy grumbled he tugged at his tie in frustration, and the knot caught, making it tighter around his neck.

“Stop that. You’re making it worse _and_ you’re stretching it,” Jim said. He set the other glass that he was holding for McCoy on the table and helped undo the tie properly. Their hands bumped together; Spock looked away. 

“Seltzer water may be an adequate method to remove a fresh stain.”

“The hell are we gonna get seltzer water? Every drink here is mixed.”

“Think I saw the door to the kitchens as we came in. I’ll pop in with the tie and see if they can spare a minute to help me out. Why don’t you two catch up? I’ll be back in a moment.” 

Jim slipped the tie, now undone, from McCoy’s neck. McCoy’s hand brushed against Jim’s arm, who leaned in to press a kiss to McCoy’s cheek. He hurried from their side, leaving a light blush dusted on McCoy’s face. Spock stood transfixed from their natural, but careful, movements around each other. 

“Damn kid always wants to make a scene.”

“A scene?”

McCoy’s rubbed at his neck as if he was just noting the absence of his tie. “Yes, a scene. Always gotta be touching and kissing.”

“You did not seem particularly opposed to such contact. If I misread the situation, and you do not wish it, you should speak with him on the matter.”

“I’m not opposed to it,” McCoy began. His lips parted as if he meant to keep speaking, but instead, his face scrunched in a momentary frown. No further response seemed forthcoming. Spock did not know what it was about the Terrans in his life tonight that made them so unwilling to finish their thoughts. 

Spock lifted the glass of punch that McCoy had placed on the table and offered to back to him. Carefully, McCoy took the glass, making sure he avoided skin contact. It should not sting so much not to have that contact. 

“I’m not opposed,” McCoy repeated, “Just don’t wanna offend your Vulcan sensibilities. Know y’all’re sensitive about things like that.”

“On the contrary, Doctor, Vulcans do not refrain from visible displays of affection with their mates. Nor have I in my past relationships.”

McCoy stared at the floor. “No. Guess you haven’t.”

They fell silent. Many of their conversations ended this way since Spock returned to teaching. Generally, Spock did not mind being quiet; it gave time for meditation and thought. But in a room that bubbled with the chatter of happy, celebrating people, their silence seemed heavier than normal. 

It was not always this way between himself and McCoy. In the years prior to taking a position on the _Enterprise_ , their silence had been comfortable. It was usually during work when they were both focused on a shared project, and it was not a thick, oppressive hush that fell over them, but a calm one. He remembered hours spent in quiet when there was barely a sound except for their own movements, the soft hum of computers, and the slow beat of McCoy’s heart next to him. Occasionally they would argue for a while, but it would always return to that same easy stillness. 

He missed it dearly.

“You here with anyone?” McCoy asked, breaking the uncomfortable moment.

“I do not have a date if that is what you are inquiring, but I did attend with Captain Pike. However, I lost sight of him when I came to greet you.”

“Mighta seen the back of his head in the crowd.” McCoy motioned his free hand in the same direction that Jim had gone earlier.

McCoy watched the crowd, his slender, tanned fingers tapping against the glass, causing the ring on his pinky finger to clink gently against it. He lifted the glass to his lips, took a drink, and his nostrils flared in disgust. Spock could not keep up the pretense of enjoying his drink and set his own down on the table.

Wrinkle lines still sat heavy on McCoy’s forehead, and every so often, he rocked on his heels—a behaviour that Spock noted in the past meant either that McCoy was anxious or excited. He did not appear to be excited.

“As you know, Doctor, I am half human.”

“You sure as hell don’t act it.”

“Thank you. May I continue?” 

“Not a compliment, but go on ahead.”

“Nevertheless, I will take it as one. As I was attempting to say, I am half human, and though I chose to follow the Vulcan path, it did not make me inattentive to the emotional states of my Terran companions.”

“What’re you getting at?”

“Only that you appear to be in some distress this evening. May I enquire as to what has upset you?”

“Why?” McCoy asked warily.

“I have spent enough years on Terra to understand that New Year’s Eve is cause for celebration. You do not appear to be in a celebratory mood, despite being here with a loving and attentive partner. If you are displeased, I would like to know why. Perhaps I can assist in alleviating it?”

Navigating McCoy’s moods was often an exercise in caution. He never knew what was liable to bring out a negative mood or a positive one, but as a long exhalation escaped McCoy’s lips, it appeared Spock had chosen his words correctly this time. 

McCoy shook his head. “No, I’m alright, Spock.”

Lying had never been McCoy’s strong suit.

“Leonard,” Spock began, and to his surprise, McCoy’s head jerked up just as it had the other day in the suit shop. A curious reaction. He wanted to push for an explanation, but like he had in the shop, Spock held back. “Do I distress you?”

He braced for the response. Part of him knew what would come of this, that it would answer both of his questions. Years ago, he thought that McCoy was uninterested in men. So, Spock moved on. It was illogical to carry on wishing for something that could not be. For a time, he found love with Nyota, and though he cared for her dearly, though she was his centre, his heart remained caught in two places. It was unfair of him to do that to either of them.

“Distress me?”

Though, clearly, the issue was not due to McCoy’s lack of attraction in men as there was no denying McCoy’s attraction to Jim. Spock saw the blush on his cheeks; he saw the way McCoy subconsciously eased into each of Jim’s touches.

“You distress me every goddamn second I’m around you.”

Perhaps his heritage was a problem. Yet McCoy had never shown xenophobic behaviour toward any species. His sometimes harsh comments were exclusively directed at Spock. Then the fault must lie with Spock himself.

“What’s with that face? Calm whatever’s pinging around in that overstuffed Vulcan head of yours, ya hear? You overthink like no one I ever met.”

“I cannot help but overthink issues where you are concerned.”

McCoy stared at him, then down at his feet. He bounced on his toes. Anxious again? “Don’t rightly know what to say to that. Except maybe this ain’t the place to speak on it. Maybe, after the party, we could—”

Jim stormed up to them, cutting whatever McCoy was about to say off. He looked over his shoulder, but whether he was glaring at someone or the nearby crowd that briefly turned their heads to look at him, Spock could not tell. Gone was the carefree, smiling Jim that Spock had been introduced to. This Jim was angry to the point where his cheeks were flushed with red and one fist was balled up, though he still took care not to wrinkle the tie held in his other hand, now free from the red stain that marred it. 

“Jim?” McCoy said. His mood shifted like someone had flipped a switch—like Spock had seen him do when an emergency patient came into Medical. Uncertainty and anxiety left him, replaced only by concern. McCoy reached out to touch Jim’s arm, but Jim moved away from it, pushing the tie into McCoy’s hand instead.

“I’m really sorry, but I’ve gotta head out. I got your tie clean. I think you have it covered. I just… I have to go. I’m sorry.” 

“Now hold on a minute.” With a concerned frown, McCoy discarded the tie on the floor and grabbed hold of Jim’s wrist. “What do you mean you have to go? What’s going on?”

Jim froze. The stiffness travelled up from his wrist where McCoy held him like a shock that captured his whole body. He didn’t move. Like the contact had fixed him to the spot. His eyes darted from his wrist to meet McCoy’s confused gaze.

“Let go of me.”

The grip was severed in an instant by the deadly seriousness in Jim’s voice. McCoy’s hand shot back like something stung him.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize…”

A defensive glare looked out of place on Jim’s face. “Didn’t realize what?”

McCoy opened his mouth to speak, but as he watched Jim, who looked nothing like the confident and bright man he was at the beginning of the party, he seemed to think better of it and stayed silent.

Spock had never seen McCoy back down from anyone. He never caved during their arguments, from professors during his student years, or even a Gorn in the throes of labour pain. Years ago, Pike had said that McCoy “bristled like a polecat” when he was about to get angry. When Spock pressed for meaning, Pike said that it meant McCoy was “about to cause a stink.” Terrans could be singularly unhelpful with their idioms when one was used to explain another. But in the face of Jim’s cold anger, McCoy said and did nothing.

And so Spock did nothing either. It was wrong to play silent witness to their evening crumbling. But there was nothing he could say. No comments came to his mind that would salvage the relationship spiralling before him. 

Their stunned silence gave Jim the opportunity to leave that he wanted. He didn’t look up as he turned away, perhaps to save himself from the crushing hurt in McCoy’s eyes. For a moment, Spock’s resolve to stay silent wavered. He could fix it, perhaps pull Jim back and apologize for inserting himself into their evening. But as he battled with himself, Jim’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt. 

He could hear Jim’s heartbeat kick up, his breath hitch in his throat, and when Spock looked away from McCoy to see what was the matter, Jim was standing stock-still before a disapproving Captain Pike.

“James.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jim snarled.

“Don’t remember asking. Think your mom would be pretty hurt if she knew you’d abandoned your name.”

_“Shut up.”_

“As for me, I’ve always thought it was an honor to carry my family’s name. You really want to leave all that behind, James Tiberius Kirk?”

McCoy’s glass slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this world, Nero never attacked Vulcan or Earth. If you've ever seen the deleted scenes from the 2009 movie, just imagine Nero still stuck in some Klingon prison.
> 
> \--
> 
> Squeaked this in just in time for my self-imposed deadline (it's still the 26th for me)! I want to thank everyone who has been reading along as I write this fic. It's my first long fic, and it's been a wild ride learning the ins-and-outs of long-form writing. We still got a way to go, so buckle in! 
> 
> My next update will be up on February 24th. Unfortunately, the next month is going to be very hectic in terms of coursework for me, so I will not be able to dedicate much time to writing. It'll be a bit of a wait, but I will have the next chapter up by that deadline. 
> 
> I want to thank [starfleetdicks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetdicks) again for being an amazing editor and encouraging me all through my writing process. These chapters honestly would never get finished without her help. 
> 
> Hope everyone who's been reading along enjoys this chapter. Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

Kirk?

As in the Kirks.

As in the son of George Kirk, the man who single-handedly prevented one of the largest potential losses of life in Starfleet history? And Winona Kirk, one of the most prestigious former chief engineers in the fleet? As in the Kirks that every single person on the command track knew about because the Kelvin incident was heavily studied? As in the Kelvin baby?

The Kelvin baby.

Jim? Was Jim the Kelvin baby?

Heads turned to look at them, their attention drawn by the yelling and shattering of glass. Red punch spread in a small puddle across the floor and under his shoes. Music and distant, undisrupted conversation sounded tinny in Leonard’s ears. 

Jim did not look back as he grit his teeth and turned to leave.

Pike immediately tried to follow. “Now, hold on a minute—”

“Piss off.”

Apparently unaware of Jim’s aversion to being grabbed, Pike reached out to take hold of a sleeve, but he was stopped short by Spock’s hand gripping his shoulder, holding him effortlessly in place.

“Captain, I believe that would be unwise.”

Jim was gone in the second it took for the interaction to occur, already disappearing between the masses of party attendees. Every muscle in Leonard’s body was tense; his hand still held in the same position when he had lost his grip on his glass. He let his arm fall to his side, blankly staring at the shards of glass while Pike tried to convince Spock to let him go. Glass crunched under his feet as he tried to step over the mess.

Pike attempted to pull away. “Dammit, Spock, let go. I’ve been looking for that kid for ages.”

“My apologies, Captain, but I will not. While I understand that Mr. Kirk is important to you in some way, I do not believe this is the place to have that altercation. We have disrupted Doctor McCoy’s evening enough.”

It took a colossal effort not to chew into Pike right this second. Though Leonard had not known Jim for long yet, it seemed wrong to see so much anger on him. They’d spent much of the last few days together, either through suit shopping or Jim digging for information about Leonard’s history with Spock, but he knew already that a bright smile was never far from Jim’s lips. At least, he’d thought that until now.

One of Leonard’s shoes made sticking sounds against the floor as he hurried through the crowd, leaving Spock’s continued chastisement of Pike behind him. A few people looked at him with half interest as he passed, and though none stopped to ask him why he and his date had caused a scene, Leonard was still glad to get out of the building.

The sun set long enough ago that the air had a slight chill to it. Rain fell most of the morning and afternoon in light drops, but tonight, the sky was clear and dark blue. The moon shone brightly on the streets outside the hall, but Leonard could see no one around apart from a few stragglers entering the party late. They’d taken a taxi to the party, but Leonard couldn’t see one leaving with any passengers. At a loss, Leonard stood on the sidewalk and looked either way, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jim walking away. Maybe he’d ran?

Leonard fished his personal communicator out of his pocket and scrolled to Jim’s contact to message him.

_Jim, where are you?_

He waited a minute, then another, but a response did not arrive.

_I left the party. I just want to talk._

Again, no response came.

“Doctor, are you well?”

The sudden voice next to him made Leonard jump, and he tightened his grip on his communicator lest he drop it on the sidewalk.

“Son of a— Goddammit,” Leonard swore, “Near gave me a heart attack.”

With his hands clasped behind his back, Spock stopped to stand next to Leonard, his head quizzically tilted. “An exaggeration, I presume?”

“’Course it’s an exaggeration. I ain’t about to drop dead just ‘cause you’re slinking around.”

“It was not my intent to ‘slink’.”

“Enough. I’m not in the mood to deal with your sass right about now.” Leonard looked over his shoulder to frown at the door. “Where the hell is Pike? I have half a mind to give him a piece of mine.”

“After you left, I convinced him that it was in everyone’s best interest to let the matter rest for the time being; though, I am unsure of how long that will dissuade him. He was singularly determined to speak with Mr. Kirk.”

Leonard licked his lips and stared down at his communicator. Still no reply from Jim. What a damn fool he was. Incorrectly, he assumed that Jim was hiding his last name out of a desire to be discreet. It was a bit of an odd job, after all, agreeing to be someone’s date just for some food and company. Briefly, Leonard even considered that Jim was on the run from something. He was jumpy enough for it. But fanciful thinking was never something Leonard was inclined to, so he dismissed the idea and any others from his mind.

“You did not know, did you?” Spock asked.

How was he supposed to answer that without the lie crumbling apart? Leonard looked up at Spock, then down at his shoes. A red stain had formed on the toe of one shoe. Somewhere back in the party, he was sure his now clean tie lied untouched on the floor.

“He’s private about a lot of things,” Leonard said hesitantly.

“I see.”

“You… You didn’t know, right? Pike never said anything?”

“I had no reason to believe that Mr. Kirk was anyone but who he said he was until Captain Pike’s mannerisms changed at the party.”

Leonard nodded slowly and glanced at his communicator again. “He won’t respond to me.”

“Perhaps he desires time alone.”

This was supposed to be a one-off thing. They were supposed to go to this party, and according to Jim, make Spock prove to Leonard that he cared for him. That was going to be the catalyst, Jim had said. Leonard needed to believe it, and then everything else was supposed to fall into place. Spock had said some things at the party before everything had gone to shit that nearly made Leonard believe that Spock wasn’t as disinterested in him as he thought.

He felt pulled in two directions. He could stay here, have that talk that Leonard almost requested and was ripped from his lips at the last second. Or he could leave, try to find Jim, and try to calm the twisting anguish in his heart over how they parted.

“You are distressed again.”

Leonard continued to stare at his shoes.

“I fear that I am once again the cause of it. It was never my intention to upset you.”

“There you go saying things like that again.” Leonard rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Overthinking. And I’m sure Jim’s gone off somewhere, overthinking too. The two of you are a lot alike in that regard. Don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

Spock bowed his head, his eyebrows angled sharper than they normally were. It was an expression he’d never seen on Spock before. The muscles in his neck were tight, his lips nearly pulled to a frown, and if Leonard didn’t know it would offend Spock’s Vulcan sensibilities, he might have hazarded to say that Spock looked distressed himself.

“I recall my mother once telling me that the worst thing one can do when in conflict with a Terran is to avoid conversation. If it would ease your mind, if you believe he shouldn’t be alone, you should go to him. I will, as always, be waiting here for your return.”

Leonard flinched. That was a lie. Spock hadn’t always waited for him. He’d left him.

“I’ll speak with you later.”

They parted quietly, and he caught the edge of Spock’s confused expression from the quick dismissal as Leonard turned to leave. Spock’s footsteps gradually faded away as he returned to the party, probably to collect Pike, and Leonard was left walking alone along San Francisco’s desolate sidewalk.

The hall was on the outer edges of campus, which was emptier than it normally was during holidays despite the party nearby. He imagined most of the population was closer to the city centre or on the beach. He could hear a distant, booming hum of music. Every so often, an early firework popped in the night sky like a cork and fizzled off. Hardly in the mood for celebrating the new year any longer, Leonard ignored it.

Most of the lights on campus were turned off, and as his turn came to go back to his apartment, Leonard walked past it. He didn’t want to be in the city celebrating, but he couldn’t make himself return to his empty apartment either. What would he do there? Stew about the unsaid words to Spock? Work himself into a fit over what Jim must be doing? Better to sulk outside where at least walking would be a mild distraction.

He retraced his way along that initial path he’d taken where Jim had followed him home. That had been his first hint that something was off with the kid, hadn’t it? He’d clammed right up at the first mention of Starfleet, and yet somehow, he’d still wound up in Leonard’s apartment, wiggling about like an overexcited puppy. It was difficult not to grow fond of him after that. He had a smile that lit up a room, seemed to genuinely care about Leonard’s hopeless pursuit of Spock, and was tender when he spoke of his family.

As he walked, Leonard checked his personal communicator again. No calls. No messages. The last thing he’d received was from his mom, asking him if he’d found a date for New Year's Eve. He hadn’t responded, unsure of how to tell her about the mess he’d made of his love life. Instead, he continued to make a bigger mess of it by clicking on Jim again.

_Jim, please respond to me_ , he messaged. Waited a beat, another, and with a resigned sigh, began to slip his communicator back into his pocket. Just as he had fully given up on his evening, the communicator gave a quiet beep.

_I’m at the diner._

Leonard didn’t even stop to reply. He was at the diner where he’d first met Jim in record time. And, considering he’d run the whole way there, fully out of breath. He took deep breaths as he leaned against the door, staring at the old-fashioned neon sign on the glass pane that clearly read closed. It was late, close to midnight at this point, and all the diner’s blinds were drawn. However, a few streams of artificial light peered through the shutters.

Leonard rapped his knuckles against the door.

Nothing. Was this some cruel trick? Revenge for taking Jim to a Starfleet holiday party? Leonard’s throat constricted painfully. He was a fool. A goddamn idiot for letting himself grow close or affectionate toward people. He should have stayed home with a bottle of whiskey—

The door opened inward.

Jim stood in the doorway, his shoulders hunched as if he was bracing for something, and his jaw set stubbornly for the briefest of moments. Their eyes met and all that bravado that Jim was carrying in his face fell away.

“Hey, uh, are you okay?” Jim asked.

Leonard huffed, still trying to catch his breath, as he looked down at the black and white checkered door of the diner. Was he okay? He was the furthest thing from okay right now. His limbs trembled, though not from the exertion of running, but from being so on edge.

“You’re an idiot,” Leonard said between deep draws of air.

“… What.”

“Damn you. Had me worried sick. And you’re just sitting here like you didn’t run off like a goddamn Cinderella after the ball. How the hell’d you even get in here? Everything’s closed.”

“I could leave you out here if you’d prefer.”

“No! No. Didn’t run all the here to have you shut the door in my face.”

The corners of Jim’s lips twitched. “Come on, Doctor.” He reached out, grabbed Leonard by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him into the building. “You need to work on your cardio if you’re that tuckered out from such a short run.”

Leonard was too tired, both physically and emotionally, to fight Jim, and he let himself get bullied into a booth. Only a few lights were on. He could see a glow of yellowish light from the kitchens, and above his table some antique hanging lamp cascaded light in a hazy circle down onto him.

“Water?” Jim asked.

Leonard nodded.

Jim disappeared into the kitchens, returning a few moments later with a glass of water and what looked like a half-consumed chocolate milkshake. He set the water down in front of Leonard and sat across from him. Leonard chugged half the glass.

“Still didn’t answer my question,” Leonard said after he caught his breath again.

“Hm?”

“How’re you in here?”

“I work here. Usually open shop in the mornings, cook the breakfast service, and prep for lunch and evening. Technically should be closed now but,” Jim shrugged, “I wanted a milkshake.”

Jim used his straw to pull up a cherry that had sunk midway through the glass, grabbed on to the stem, and popped it into his mouth.

“A milkshake.”

“It was either that or go to a bar.”

Leonard frowned at the table. He remembered Jim mentioning that he didn’t drink at the party.

“Guess breaking into your own place of work is better than that,” Leonard said gruffly.

“It’s hardly breaking in when I have a key. Either way, figured it was a better alternative than breaking three years of sobriety.”

“Oh.”

The sat silently for a little while as Leonard finished his water. Jim pulled the cherry stem out of his mouth. It was tied in a knot when he set it on the table. Stubbornly, Leonard refused to stare at it.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“When I grabbed your arm. At the party.”

Jim shrugged his shoulders again. “It’s fine.”

“It wasn’t.”

Quiet again. Jim finished his milkshake, scooted over to the side of the booth, and pulled open the blinds at their window. They moved jerkily along as he pulled a cord made up of a string of tiny metal beads.

“It’s the one thing I wished the owners would update about this old place,” Jim said, “I get it’s supposed to be a retro diner, but it’s annoying to pull them all open in the mornings.” He peered out the window. “Fireworks should start soon.”

“Yeah.”

“View isn’t as good here.”

“No, guess not.”

“You can ask whatever’s on your mind, you know.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“It’s not. But that’s never stopped anyone from asking before.”

“Kid—”

“Look, I get people are curious. They want to know about the Kelvin baby or whatever the hell they’re calling me. Or why I’m never at Starfleet events with my mom. Or why I never joined Starfleet. Or why I’m working at some odd job. Or whatever else people dig up on me. So, ask. I’m tired of dancing around it.”

Jim kept his focus on the window, waiting for the first signs of fireworks beyond the odd stray ones that they could hear in the distance.

Leonard pushed his empty glass to the side, leaned forward, and put his elbows on the table.

“Cut the crap.”

Jim’s gaze jerked away from the window, his blue eyes narrowing defensively at Leonard. “What do you mean, cut the crap? You badgered me with texts, chased me down, and now you’re just sitting there looking at me like you’re waiting for me to crack!”

“Goddammit, Jim! Hell, I ain’t gonna deny that I was shocked, but I didn’t come after you to pry into your life story. I wanted to see if you were okay!”

They glared at each other. Leonard kept stern, not so much as blinking while he held Jim’s eye. Uncertainty broke Jim first.

“You’re serious?”

“’Course I am. I know we ain’t known each other long, but I’m not the kind of guy to use someone to satisfy my own curiosity. So answer me. Are you okay?”

Jim’s gaze fell to the table, then back to the window as he fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. He bit his lower lip, struggling like he didn’t know how to respond to someone genuinely asking after his well being.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s alright. Nothing saying you gotta know right now.”

“I just didn’t expect—” Jim stopped to worry his lips again, “I don’t know what I expected. All I thought I was going to do tonight was prove to you that Spock is interested in you. Maybe get him to show some jealousy. Then we’d fake breakup, and you’d actually have the confidence to speak to him.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is. All you have to do is talk to him. Have you tried talking to him yet? Telling him that you’ve been pining away for years?”

“He could speak to me too.”

“Yeah, he could. Why do you think I keep leaving you two alone to talk? You’re both miserable at it.” Jim’s lips quirked in a momentary smile. “Sorry I interrupted. Should have just left the moment I saw Christopher Pike.”

“I’d rather my date didn’t ditch me at the party.”

“Fake date.”

Leonard grunted. “How d’ya know Pike anyway?”

“Didn’t you hear him? He knows me because I’m a Kirk.”

“No, it’s not that. Something else. He acted like he _knows_ you.”

Jim leaned on one of his hands, and for a moment, Leonard wondered if he’d pushed too far with his questions. He was truthful when he said he didn’t want to pry at Jim’s life story, but he’d at least like to know why that son of a bitch Pike deemed it acceptable to ruin their night.

Jim exhaled slowly. “I met him years ago. Got into a fight with some Starfleet cadets back in Riverside, and he picked me up off the floor of a bar. Crazy old bastard tried to convince me to join up, challenged me to surpass what my dad did saving all those people on the Kelvin. I almost did it, you know? I was pissed, wanted to prove that I wasn’t just living in the shadow of my father, and I went all the way up to the shuttle. And then I lost my nerve.”

“Riverside,” Leonard muttered, “How long ago was this?”

“I don’t know. Like six years ago, I think? I spent a lot of that time in an alcohol-induced haze.”

“That’s when I joined. Hopped on at Riverside on a whim. We mighta just missed each other.”

“Small world.”

“I threw up on the guy sitting next to me. That coulda been you.”

Jim laughed. It was light and the first time he’d seen an unforced smile on Jim’s lips all evening. A small grin worked its way on to Leonard’s lips.

The crack of a firework went off, then another, and another, and they both looked out the window. Though buildings partially obscured the view, they could still see a shower of fireworks. They bloomed blue and purple, red and white, yellow and green until the night sky was filled with dozens of multicoloured lights.

“Happy New Year, Bones.”

“Happy New Year, Jim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day past its deadline, but it's up! 
> 
> Thank you everyone for all the lovely comments on the last chapter I posted. Hoping to have the next chapter up by ~~March 18th~~.
> 
> Edit:
> 
> Life got a little busy, so no update this month. As much as I'd love to continue writing right now, I just can't sacrifice the time. An update will come, it's just gonna be later on in April.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the following prompt submitted to McSpirk Holiday Fest:
> 
> In an AU where Jim was never recruited by Pike, Spock and McCoy are full-time professors at Starfleet Academy. They both have a thing for one another, but one of the two won't quite get the point when hints are dropped that they might start dating. Then the other one sees [a casual encounters ad] and decides to hire the young fellow in question. He plans to bring his hired date to a holiday event, hoping to goad the other professor into dating him so as to save him from his terrible life choices. The self-confessed felon who's hired to be the worst date ever? Turns out to be James T. Kirk, and suddenly the professors are both... fascinated. -- prompt by anon


End file.
